


Personalized

by Michaelssw0rd



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Team Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27932455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaelssw0rd/pseuds/Michaelssw0rd
Summary: John saves a Number, and acquires a Christmas Tree.
Relationships: Harold Finch/John Reese
Comments: 18
Kudos: 48
Collections: POI Advent 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE.
> 
> Thank you mods for arranging such a beautiful fest for us <3\. You guys are the best.  
> Thank you Sky and Mnemonic for the handholding and the encouragement! I owe you guys my life (and my words)
> 
> (Art in Chapter 2)

John peeked through the window of the shop and cursed under his breath.

“Finch, are you seeing this?” John spoke in a low voice.

“I just hacked into the camera in the shop, Mr. Reese. It seems like Mr. Garcia is quickly running out patience.”

“You don’t say,” John said sarcastically, glancing inside again to see their Number— Lewis Brown, the owner of the shop— tied around a gigantic Christmas tree and being threatened with a knife. “I’m going in.”

“Mr. Reese, I don’t think—“

John didn’t hear wait to hear the end of Harold’s sentence. Instead, he kicked the door open, holding his gun pointed straight ahead.

“Let go of the knife and back away,” John spoke softly, but his voice made the consequences of disobeying very clear.

Mr. Garcia apparently did not have any self-preservation instincts, because instead of doing what John had order, he somehow managed to get behind Lewis and hold the knife to his throat.

“I don’t think so,” Garcia said. “I am not going down with this.”

“It is a little too late for that.” John said. “Lewis isn’t the only one who knows about your little drug smuggling operation in Christmas ornaments. Not anymore. The police has already been informed.”

John and Harold had spent the last two days digging up everything about Lewis Brown, trying to figure out why his number had come up. They had discovered that he had simply been the wrong shop owner at the wrong time. The shipments of Christmas ornaments had been mixed up, and he had received the wrong one.

One that had Christmas bobs that were filled with cocaine, to be precise.

Now, Angus Garcia, who had been the one responsible for the misplaced shipment, was covering up his tracks. He had been trying to make sure Lewis was the only one aware of the smuggling before killing him and tying up that lose end. John had made it in time to foil his plan.

John watched Garcia’s face, watching him absorb that information. A moment later, he realized it had been a bad idea. The determination in Garcia’s eyes was one of the man with nothing to lose.

Garcia’s hand around the knife tightened. Before he could do anything drastic, John lowered the gun, pointed it at Garcia’s left kneecap, and pressed the trigger.

The sound of scream was loud in the empty shop in the cold winter’s night.

Knife fell from Garcia’s hand—not before making a shallow cut against Lewis’s neck—and he bent to clutch his knee. John rushed forward, kicking Garcia away and quickly removing the gag from Lewis’s mouth. He untied Lewis, and used the rope to tie Garcia up.

“Detective Carter will be there in a few minutes.” Harold spoke in his earpiece after John was done with taking care of Garcia and was putting his coat around Lewis’s shoulders.

“The police is on its way,” John conveyed the information to the shop owner, who was still in shock. John asked him if there was a first aid box. He pointed towards a cupboard and John went to retrieve it.

“Still,” Harold continued. “I would’ve appreciated it if you had waited until the police had arrived.”

“And risk Lewis’s head becoming part of Christmas decoration?” John countered. “Pass.”

Harold didn’t reply to that, but John could almost see the look of pure distaste that would be on Harold’s face. The image made the corners of John’s lips twitch up.

John came back with the first aid kit and examined the wound on the Lewis’s neck. It was a fairly shallow and clean cut.

“Looks worse than it is. Doesn’t even need any stitches,” John commented, trying to put Lewis at ease. “To be honest, I fear the tree is more injured than you are.”

John knew it was a flat joke, so he was surprised when it elicited a hysterical laugh. John paused with the bandage in his hand, letting Lewis calm down.

A few moments later, he did. “Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting it. This has been… quite a day.”

John nodded, glad to see that at least Lewis was speaking again. Lewis stayed quiet while John cleaned the wound and bandaged it. When John was done, Lewis looked at the tree thoughtfully.

“I think I might have to burn that one,” he said. He sounded like he was only half joking.

John considered this. He looked at the tree, the branches bent and broken, the leaves making a mess on the floor. John could also see spatter of blood on it, probably from when John had shot Garcia. His eyes wandered away from the tree, towards the sign on the wall.

“Mr. Reese…” Sometimes John thought that Harold had a tendency to psychically divine John’s whims. The warning in his tone was clear enough, and yet John couldn’t help but push.

“The sign says ‘ _ you break it, you buy it’ _ , Harold,” John said, glancing at Lewis and back at tree. His lips tugged into a small smile, which he was sure Harold could hear in his voice. “And I did  _ shoot _ it.”

* * *

John had never had the opportunity, the leisure or even the inclination to ever decorate a Christmas tree before in his life.

Now that there was a giant Christmas tree sitting in the library, John found himself strangely fascinated by everything that could go on it and yet failed to find any that suited it. When he found himself in the mall next time he was tailing a Number, he browsed through the usual Christmas trinkets. Soon, he found that he held a certain distaste for the shiny red and green objects.

The tree remained in the library, broken twigs and all, until Shaw entered the library one day and stared straight at John.

“Dare you to steal Finch’s tie for the tree,” she said, her voice flat but her eyes sparkling with mischief.

John smirked. “Only if you steal Root’s apple.”

“Deal.” Shaw nodded, before ignoring him completely and heading inside to get briefed by Harold.

* * *

The tie was the first item on the tree, and the beginning of one of the strangest collections of Christmas baubles. Once John knew what he wanted, it became easy enough.

It got adorned with many trinkets, some found randomly in the library, like a couple of small books hanging by their bookmark, a few keys, the spare pair of Harold’s glasses. Others, John found in the shops walking around, including a string of fairy lights—they fit the library aesthetic, in John’s opinion. When he found a donut shaped trinket, he couldn’t help but buy it. One of Harold’s sencha green take away cup also felt like it would fit perfectly on the tree.

A day later, John barely hid his smile when he saw Harold typing on the keyboard, cursing when he reached for the mouse and found it missing. The look Harold threw his way told John that Harold was well aware of what John was up to. Instead of saying anything, Harold ruffled in one of the drawers and took out a new mouse.

Shaw showed up one day with a pawprint with BEAR engraved on it. When John raised his eyebrow at her, she stared back.

“What? This isn’t exclusively a  _ Harold _ tree,” she retorted to his unvoiced comment.

“I didn’t know you cared, Shaw.”

“I will kill you,” she declared casually, before heading out of the library.

John stepped back and looked at the tree. It wasn’t the most beautiful Christmas tree by any comparison, but Shaw was right. It was  _ their _ tree. Full of mismatched collection of ornaments of their lives. There was a strange feeling in John’s throat that. If he didn’t know better, he might’ve called  _ holiday cheer. _

* * *

“Mr. Reese, is that a  _ grenade _ you are trying to hang on the Christmas tree?” Harold’s baffled and slightly panicked voice stopped John midway into hanging, well, a grenade on the Christmas tree.

John turned around, amused at the way Harold’s eyes were wide behind his glasses. “Don’t worry, Finch. I am pretty sure it’s a dud.”

“Oh, good. That makes me feel much better.” Sarcasm dripped from Harold’s voice.

“Will I ever endanger your life, Harold?” John was teasing, but Harold’s face softened.

“That is beside the point,” Harold retorted, but without any heat this time.

“What’s the point then?”

“The point—or more importantly the  _ question— _ Mr. Reese, is  _ why _ are we risking explosion in a building filled with the perfect fuel for fire in the first place?” Harold’s eyes had narrowed at the grenade in John’s hand, his tone more curious than shocked.

“First of all, there is a three tier safety to even a live grenade, Harold. The risk to your beloved books is minimal,” John replied. Harold waited for him to finish his comment patiently as John looked at the tree, and then back at Harold. “Secondly, I was informed that I should put something of  _ myself _ on the tree as well.”

Shaw had surveyed the tree the last time she was here. Her exact words were, “Glad you didn’t deface the tree with any of  _ your _ personal items.” But John had understood her meaning.

“Oh.” Harold got quiet, moving closer to John and to the tree, a cup of tea in his hands.

“I don’t wear any ties, so…” John smiled when he saw Harold’s eyes widen as they landed on his tie hanging in the tree branches.

“So  _ that’s _ where all my missing items have been ending up.”

John shrugged, not willing to be apologetic about it. “It’s a  _ big tree, _ ” he replied as an explanation.

They both looked at the tree then, really taking it in. The whole picture. To anyone who didn’t know them, it would look like the weirdest Christmas tree ever. To John, it brought a lump in his throat and a weird burning sensation in his chest.

The tree was filled with ties and cufflinks and empty tea cartons. It had Root’s apple, Bear’s leash and Shaw’s gun. It even had a camera from which John was sure The Machine was watching. All of it, illuminated with subtle string of fairy lights that Shaw had helped John wrap around the tree.

“Mr. Reese, this is…” Harold sounded as choked up about it as John felt.

“…ridiculous, I know.”

Harold looked away from the tree and at John. Slowly, he stepped even closer, bringing one of his hands around John’s waist. “No, John,” he looked into John’s eyes, unblinking. “It is beautiful.”

They had been dancing around whatever it was between them for months now. Adult enough to know what it meant and wise enough not to risk their partnership. At this moment though, with his heart full of love and gratitude for the family he had found after losing everything and everyone, John decided to take a leap of faith.

Balancing himself on the ladder and Harold’s supporting hand, John bent his head and pressed his lips against Harold’s. There wasn’t even a hint of surprise or shock from Harold, his lips pressing back instantly. As if it was as natural for him as it was for John in this moment.

It was their first kiss. It might as well had been their hundredth.

Harold’s lips were warm and oddly familiar. For the first time, John felt a moment of regret about the grenade in his hands, because otherwise he would’ve wrapped Harold in a warm embrace too.

As it was, they stayed there, Harold on his tiptoes and John bent over, their lips moving gently and slowly. A few moments later, they parted.

The smile on John’s face was mirrored by the one on Harold’s.

“Santa better bring me the latest grenade launcher this Christmas,” John spoke a few moments later, breaking the long—albeit comfortable—silence between them.

Harold’s face split into a rare, full grin. “I am not so sure that you are on Santa’s good list this year, John.”

“Is that so?” John tried to assume a look of worry. “Do you think you could put in a word for me?” he asked hopefully.

“I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Reese,” he replied mysteriously, before turning around and walking away.

John stood there on the ladder for a few more moments before securely putting the grenade on the tree. He was sure he would find a wrapped grenade launcher under the tree, come Christmas time.  _ His _ Santa preferred the naughty list.

Even if that wasn’t the case, he had already received the best Christmas gift he could ask for.

Later, he was sure there would be a conversation about expectations, boundaries and consequences. Later, he hoped there would be more hugs, kisses and caresses. For now, he had this: the tree for full of proof that he had found a place to belong, his lips tingling with the kiss from the one he loved, and a heart full of warmth despite the winter chill.


	2. Chapter 2

[(Full Image Link)](https://i.imgur.com/qK82fQY.jpg)

[Link to Process gif-set of this fanart](https://i.imgur.com/rslIjEL.gif)

I also made another version of this fanart, without the elaborate background, so you can focus on the kiss. If anyone is interested, [here it is](https://i.imgur.com/MVLZoZN.jpg).

**Author's Note:**

> Slowly, steadily, warily stepping back into writing again. The art was easier (even though it took longer) to do than the writing. Hope you guys like it! 
> 
> Lemme know what you guys think? About the words as well as the art!


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